


exhale

by MavenMorozova



Category: Crimson Peak (2015)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Character Study, Dark, F/M, Incest, No Smut, One Shot, Relationship Study, Sibling Incest, re-write of canon scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-16 18:54:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29087181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MavenMorozova/pseuds/MavenMorozova
Summary: It was Lucille whom he had lived for, and Edith whom he had died for. But as the sun set on the last minutes of his life, Thomas still couldn’t bring himself to hate her. His sister was crying, sobs wracking her body as she heaved on the floor, face almost unrecognizable. She was staring at her hands, covered in blood, just like his, mouth parted in horror.“Thomas,” Lucille whispered quietly, voice almost inaudible. “My dear brother, what have I done?”
Relationships: Lucille Sharpe/Thomas Sharpe
Comments: 4
Kudos: 5





	exhale

**Author's Note:**

> i watched this film for the first time last week. consider me hyperfixating on it.

_ “There was an iciness, a sinking, a sickening of the heart - an unredeemed dreariness of thought which no goading of the imagination could torture into aught of the sublime.” _

— " The Fall of the House of Usher ," Edgar Allen Poe

~*~*~*~

The blood.

It was everywhere.

Thomas gasped as it spurted across his face and ran down his cheek, hot and familiar. It almost felt natural at this point, for the warm liquid was a favorite of Lucille’s even before Edith had arrived at Allerdale Hall. Thomas could have welcomed it, the pleasure of the painful sensation—even as the blood stained the collar of his rumpled shirt—if he didn’t feel quite so betrayed.

_ Lucille. _ Lucille had done this to him.

Not one of the monsters in the house. Not the Crimson Woman or even the spirit of their mother, who was surely staring up at them from hell, waiting for them to join her.

No.  _ Lucille. _

He could barely speak, jaw quivering as he stumbled backward, hand wrapping around the rod sticking from his cheek. He knew with a calm certainty that it would be the last thing he did. But when Thomas died, he wanted it to be on his own terms, of his own volition. And so he wrenched the metal rod from his face, grimacing at the squelch the movement elicited.

“Lucille,” he groaned as he staggered against her arms, making them both tumble to the floor. He could feel the stickiness of the blood against his clothing, soaking into his skin and suffocating him, but it was already too late. Even if she had killed him, he wanted to be with her, in the end.

It was Lucille whom he had lived for, and Edith whom he had died for. But as the sun set on the last minutes of his life, Thomas still couldn’t bring himself to hate her. His sister was crying, sobs wracking her body as she heaved on the floor, face almost unrecognizable. She was staring at her hands, covered in blood, just like his, mouth parted in horror.

“Thomas,” Lucille whispered quietly, voice almost inaudible. “My dear brother, what have I done?”

“Don’t pretend you didn’t mean this,” he replied through pants. His hand rose unconsciously to her cheek, and Thomas stroked the soft skin there gently, staining the paleness with crimson streaks. “Please don’t lie to me anymore.”

“You are the one who lied to me,” Lucille spat, shrinking away from his touch. “Don’t  _ pretend,  _ Thomas. You chose her. You abandoned me  _ first. _ And now you want to play the victim. I see now that you truly didn’t love me as I loved you.”

“That’s not true, Lucy,” Thomas murmured, feeling his voice begin to shake with finality. When she turned away, attempting to crawl fruitlessly like an animal along the rotting wood of the floor, he grasped her wrist and pulled her back to him.  _ “Lucille—” _

He pressed his mouth to hers roughly, relishing the feel of her lips, just as familiar and welcome as they had always been. And though Lucille stiffened immediately to the unexpected show of intimacy, she eventually softened into his arms, allowing Thomas to deepen the kiss, his stained hand caressing the pale skin of her neck to wrap along the inside of her hair.

Lucille had always been an enigmatic being, even to him, but here and now, with them both sprawled across the floor in her bedroom, wounds still dripping with their lives’ essence, he could see her for who she truly had been. His sister, worthy of love. His sister, whom he’d never been able to break from. Her love was spellbinding, and it was passionate, and it was fire that was beautiful until it burned. His sister, who had never escaped the curse of the house, and who had killed him for it.

“I love you, Lucy,” Thomas told her, the words a quiet admittance into her mouth. It wasn’t the first time he’d said it, but it would be the last.

He didn’t care how sick and twisted it may have been, and he knew that Lucille cared even less so. They both her monsters, but they loved each other. Thomas was sure he’d have died a long time ago without her to pull him through it, even if that effort had broken her.

“Goodbye, Thomas.”

With a barely perceptible flutter of his eyelashes and a slight tremor that echoed in his bones, Thomas exhaled, and then became still.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm sad<3
> 
> comments are much appreciated! stay safe!
> 
> if you'd like, come say hi to me on tumblr @nitheful :)


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